


Chrysanthemum

by SkadiofWinter



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Fireworks, General Canoodling, M/M, New Year's Eve, Post S2, Rick/Kieren in flashback, Steve is Precious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 18:49:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5795812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkadiofWinter/pseuds/SkadiofWinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A spherical break of colored stars, similar to a peony, but with stars that leave a visible trail of sparks.</p>
<p>How Simon and Kieren spent New Year's Eve together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chrysanthemum

**Author's Note:**

> This just goes to show what a slowpoke I am. We're a month into the New Year already and this is only just getting posted.
> 
> Using the wonderful Dom Mitchell's tweet canon of a Roarton divide. https://twitter.com/DomMitchell/status/669819351277641728

The fireworks were for everyone, there was no stopping that.  
There was one firework display on in Roarton, permitted by the council but organised by everyone at Lambert Farm. The event had only just been started again after the events of the rising. Some unknown council members had deemed it safe enough, though many would only watch from their windows.

They had always gone to it when he was alive. Even when it was bucketing it down with rain, which was the case more often than not.  
When he could slip away he'd meet up with Rick, who had always managed to get a hold of a few. Sparklers, mostly, and in the darkness of the cave he would whisk it round quickly, writing their initials with light.  
When midnight hit, the voices of the crowd counting down just audible, they waited quietly. And in the pitch black they would feel for each other's lips hesitantly, hands staying over clothes but pressing longingly at hips, below buckles. They would part on the way back to the field, returning in completely opposite directions.

The clock on the side table beeped, alerting Kieren and Simon to another hour's passing. It was only nine, and they had been laying here for most of the evening already, gradually sinking down the sofa until they were stretched out, Simon on top.  
Kissing sometimes, or whispering about nothing of consequence.  
One year they might go across Europe. Celebrate under the Arc de Triomphe or some other landmark, cheering with the care free crowds.  
As it was though, this was not so bad.

A week ago the decision had been made to stay in, when his family had asked if there was any way of meeting up whilst everyone's attention was diverted. A dark night with lots of prettily coloured explosives. It just wasn't worth the risk. They'd chatted again earlier, an anxious Steve having focused his mind on the colour patterns. Colours in the build up, though the whites were far more classy for the big one. 'Remember '96, Sue?' he could still be heard saying in the background as she tried to wrap things up. 'Countdown went to pot. Rockets going off three seconds too early.'  
Reminding them that they'd best be off she'd wished them a peaceful evening.

The curtains had been drawn early, lights kept on low. They thought each other too beautiful to sit in the dark. It was just bright enough to read by and Kieren had started passing on the best anecdotes from the biography he was reading about Oscar Wilde.  
Sighing softly mid page Kieren mussed at his partner's hair, this time when they kissed parting his lips and slipping his tongue past them. Moving down Simon licked softly at his jaw, claiming the hollow of his neck with what he could only call a purr.  
The book thudded onto the floor as he failed to place it on the table and Simon chuckled, nuzzling against his chest and glancing up at him from under dark lashes, fingertips pressing on his lips then to his own. It was equally desperately sweet and full of contained longing. And it upset him, sometimes. Simon had a multitude of sweet ways to touch him, and for most part he had no sense memory to support them.  
It helped to have that intense gaze on him, meaning enough in it to almost make up for what was surely lacking.

He couldn't recall in which heated moment they had lost their shirts, head turning to the side and seeing them bunched together on the floor. 

Simon of course could remember far more. It was an odd blessing and made him smile when he scratched lightly, carefully, over his shoulder blades, illiciting a gasp. And to know every thoughtful caress and focus of attention was because Simon wanted him to feel good seemed to heighten the sensation. He couldn't quite feel the warmth of his tongue, nor the insistent press of nails, thighs tightening around his hips. But there was always something. A spark. A million of them, for Simon was devoted.

"Yes, Kieren..."  
He'd shivered, gasping a little from the cold.  
It would only be for a few seconds, Simon's body feeling unnatural against him. Then the moment passed but with each one it was harder to convince himself he was imagining it.  
There would be a dryness in his throat and he would gaze past him into the open kitchen at the taps.

Hands were insistent on his belt and he bucked up at that mere attention with a grin. This was as far as they were going for now. No need to rush it. Simon knew Kieran's precious acceptance of their bodies hadn't quite traveled to their nether regions, and to be frank it was more than thrilling enough still just to kiss him. Be with him. The paint stains he kept finding on the sleeves of his jumpers he could have done without, really... if it wasn't terribly endearing. Kieren thought he hadn't noticed, was always careful to roll up the sleves that were just a touch too long on him. But once he was in the zone, absorbed in the canvas, they would inevitably unfurl and dip into palettes of warm purples and greens, lush reds, and, much to his brief horror, a sickly peach on the cuff of his favourite alpaca knit.

If Kieren could have he'd have given more. Simon was whispering softly, their noses brushing. Started singing Van Morrison's Brown Eyed Girl, changing the prefix for him. It was slow at first, and he hummed along quietly. Simon had seen plenty of pictures and self portraits by now, before the divide when Sue had extended yet another invitation to keep them home a little longer. He was evidently used to it, which was a comfort, though the contacts only came out now for video calls home. The mousse stayed in the drawer.

The next moment they were up, hands finding their places on waists and shoulders and he guided Simon in his movements until he was singing the song at its proper tempo.  
Sha la la sha la la.  
Simon soon loosened up and spun him around, both of them laughing as he put the radio on quietly then so they didn't have to stop. It was a modern station and they still weren't familiar with most of the songs but they were good to dance to.  
If Amy was here she'd have had them up dancing hours ago. It was good to see Simon acting so silly. To be acting that way himself. Normal.

The radio seemed to crackle. Then the screaming started. Bright lights illuminated the room despite their heavy curtains.

Kissing him gently Simon hurried up to the window, peering down the gap in the side of the curtains then ducking straight down. "Shit."  
Fear was the easiest thing to remember. It had bubbled in his throat, prickled at his skin until he didn't have control and his body shook.  
Get away from the window.  
He couldn't form the words, instead stumbling and falling onto him, trying to pull him from the flashing lights of the fireworks whizzing and exploding down the street.

There were weapons in the house. Rifle behind the sofa, hand gun concealed under their boxers in the bedroom drawer. Knives they didn't need in the kitchen. Kieren hadn't questioned it once the divide happened. He wasn't entirely popular with anyone right now, and Simon, who obviously knew, had yet to tell him why so many of Roarton's PDS were looking at him funny. Both of them were trying to put off that conversation for a little while longer. Whilst things were otherwise so good between them. They deserved to enjoy it.

Running upstairs they huddled beside the bed, gun laying at Simon's side. Before, Simon would have been out there, acting leader. His life now was split into Before Kieren and After, rather than Before and After Death. Everyone else be damned now.

Kieren's white, frantic gaze fell on the bedside clock showing a neat row of zeros. Simon saw too and they looked to each other then, kissed slowly and cupped each other's cheeks counting down how many seconds of peace they had left as the front door crashed open.


End file.
